The Misrepresentation of Youth
by WhatDreamsAre
Summary: "Stop, said the voice in her head, Stop hurting me." She hides their shame beneath sweaters with horses, and everyday, she feels a little bit closer to dying. This story contains abuse, mentions of rape, and graphic material. Very dark, may contain triggers. Read at your own discretion.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One.

Warning, contains dark themes including graphic displays of abuse and mentions of rape. Not for someone looking for a light hearted Glee story. Blaine is straight in this world, and pretty messed up. I do not own any of the characters, nor the concept of Glee. No copyright infringement intended. Enjoy! Feedback appreciated!

"We're going to be late. Get up."

Get up. The words repeated in her head, the pounding in her temples intensifying as she tried to process his request. It seemed simple enough, open her eyes and move herself onto the floor and into a shower, but for some reason, moving seemed a lot more complicated then just that. Everything seemed to hurt, her head, her cheekbone, her jaw, but nothing compared to between her legs. It _ached_ there, worse, it felt sticky, hot, wrong. She wanted nothing more then to bring a hand down to explore the swollen folds of her skin, to wipe the sweat of her body and the viscosity of his semen away, to make sure that it wasn't broken beneath it. That she hadn't disappeared. That it was still her.

Sometimes, she wished she would wake up and find her body gone. Sometimes, she wished she would wake up and just feel nothing. Emptiness, that was what she craved.

"I said get up, Rachel. Please? I don't want to fight with you this morning, you have that test anyway, and I still haven't found the right song for our Glee assignment. Please get up?"

He was being kind this morning. Not unusual for the morning after a night like the one they'd had, but still, something in his voice reeked of more then desperation to be on time to school. There was a fear tinging the rich baritone that she rarely heard anymore, and it was that vulnerability that finally opened her gaze to his and force her body up from the warmth of the bed.

"Sorry," she sounded hoarse, but her voice was only a little hollow today. She hid it well now, long enough had they been together, long enough that she knew better. "I'm up, I just need to shower, I-"

Words escaped her when she stood, when the weight of his abuse hit her and the rest of her sentence caught in her throat, lodged there like ice. It _hurt_. He seemed to notice her wince and in a flash he was beside her, his arm strong around her small shoulders, his fingers guiding- rather then bruising. "Let me help you," he was saying, but all she heard was, _"we have to hide this."_ He led her to her bathroom, like many times he'd done before, and set her in front of her vanity so he could turn the shower on for her, so he wouldn't have to look at what he'd done. He was dressed already, the monster hidden away beneath a facade of skinny denim and blue button ups, his hair immaculate, the scent of his shower and cologne still hanging in the air. He'd straightened her room, set the causalities of their fight back to their rightful places (mostly just stuffed animals from her youth, but also a picture of the two of them, and a broken hand mirror which was now glaring up at her from the trash), and made his side of the bed, stripped off the pillowcase that had been stained with her blood and his sweat and their shame. Rachel stared at herself blankly in the mirror, her vacant gaze taking in the bruises, her fingertips ghosting over the makeup bag on the smooth surface of the counter. No one would notice. No one ever did.

He had returned for her, the steam of the shower was filling up their space and felt slightly claustrophobic, not helped by the feel of his hands on her shoulders, his own piercing stare boring into hers. "I'm sorry, Rachel." The words were soft, tender, and she knew without having to look at him that he was remorseful. He always was. "I shouldn't have...I just lost my temper. I shouldn't have, not with you, not again. Forgive me?"

Her nod was curt, but her gaze didn't lift from her reflection. His grip tightened slightly and she let out a tiny, audible breath, immediately snapping her eyes to his. "Say it, please?"

"I forgive you."

Satisfied, he released his grasp on her and helped her to her feet, towards the still streaming water of her shower, where he tugged the robe from her body, wincing at the sight of her bare flesh. It didn't escape her notice, she looked down, determined not to cry as she nodded towards the door. "I'll be out in a second, can you find my backpack?" His cue to leave, her subtle dismissal of him, not forceful, just routine. He gave a quick jerk of his head and leaned in to kiss her, so gently that she barely felt it, yet enough to remind her that she was his and his alone. To remind her how precarious a position she had in his life. As easy as it was for him to kiss her, it was for him to hurt her. She had known, always, that he had grown up in a rough home. His mother had been silent and cold, his father a storm of a presence, demanding perfection that could never be achieved from his sons, punishing them ruthlessly for their failures. His older brother had been lucky enough to escape to LA, lucky enough to find a way out of that home and into the homes of others by epitomizing the perfection on TV that he had never been able to achieve in real life.

She forgave him because he knew not what he did.

"I love you." He paused at the doorway to look back at her battered, naked flesh. "Always, Rachel. You deserve more than me."

She deserved exactly what he was. She would never be perfect either.

"I love you too, Blaine," her whisper seemed to disappear into the steam. "I love you too."


	2. Chapter 2

McKinley High. Never had Rachel Berry thought she would consider the dingy, white-washed walls of this school to be a safe haven to her. In the three years she had been there, she had suffered nothing but endless attacks on her personality, her clothing, her talent, her drive. She had been slushied, almost daily, ridiculed for the way that she dressed, told to shut up, told that she'd never amount to anything. It had almost been like a dream when Blaine Anderson had entered her life and the abuse of her peers had ceased to an occasional inappropriate gesture in the hallway. Funny, how that worked, how one kind of abuse had stopped, just in time for another to start. But still, she cherished the time she had here now. Not because of the reprieve that it provided from her boyfriend's temper, but because she knew that this was _her_ shelter from the hypothetical storm that she faced each night. These were sacred halls now, ones where she couldn't be touched, where no one cared about her, and she didn't have to pretend to care for anyone. She just existed there, and to just exist was something that Rachel had desperately needed.

The ache between her legs was beginning to dissipate now, hurried away by the hot shower she had taken and the painkillers she routinely popped, but she wondered how long it would last. She wondered if she would get a free pass tonight because of it? It usually meant that he would take it easy, that he would be in good spirits for awhile because he knew he'd gone too far and because she had to have a break before her body fell apart and he would be left with nothing but the shell of her. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of Blaine's worried face as he'd kissed her in the car that morning, held her small hands between his and apologized again and again, promising her the world and the moon and a dinner at Breadsticks tonight because he was _such_ a fuck-up when it came to her. She had returned his kisses, brushed away his apologies, and accepted his date offer because that was what she knew to do, that was what kept her safe, and kept him satisfied, and kept them both pretending that everything was all right. In the beginning of the cycle of abuse they had trapped themselves in, Rachel had used to fight him. She would kick and scream and hit and throw things and refuse his apologies for days after their disagreements. It had worked—in the beginning, it had worked- but as soon as Blaine caught on that she wasn't leaving him, he'd put a stop to her "attitude," and she didn't fight him any longer. Now she had nothing of her former spark left. It was all just pretend, a fake light that shown behind a carefully made-up face, a dullness that had never before graced the likes of a girl like Rachel.

No one seemed to notice. Or perhaps if they did, they were too relieved by the change in her to stop and wonder what the cause was. Surely, it wasn't Blaine. No one would ever suspect a nice boy like him to do the things to her that he did, no one would believe her, and even if they did, what would they do? No, Blaine was the perfect one. He was the one who had saved her, stopped her tormentors, encouraged her talent in Glee. She owed him everything, and if that meant that sometimes he needed to remind her of her place, to teach her how to be good, then she supposed that it was worth it. He loved her, after all and anyway...

No one would ever notice.

In Glee that afternoon, she watched with proud eyes as Blaine performed for the club, his eyes trained on hers, the song his own version of an apology that he had not yet issued. A special one, because he knew how much it meant to her to be sang to. When he finished and he'd kissed her in front of everyone, and Santana had stopped pretending to vomit into Brittany's cleavage and Tina had stopped crying, Rachel glanced around to make sure that no one was staring too hard at her. Attention was fine for a bit, but today just felt off. The bruises on her face had been hard to conceal and scrutiny would give them away so easily... But no one was watching. Puck had returned to flicking pieces of notebook paper into Sugar's hair, and Artie was discussing an idea with Quinn for a duet, and no one was looking at her but Blaine. "I love you," he murmured into her sweet smelling hair, squeezing her shoulder gently.

"I love you," Rachel returned, just as quietly, delicate fingers sweeping across the back of his hand. She was caught up in his gaze and their moment, too much to notice the way that Finn was staring at her from across the room, too much to see the concerned glance exchanged between Mr. Shue and Kurt as they pretended to talk about the next week's assignment. When the bell rang, Mr. Shue dismissed them all with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and as they collected their things, he surprised them by singling out the one person they had been so ready to ignore.

"Rachel, could you stay a second? I need to discuss something with you."

Her heart skipped a beat and she stared at him blankly, as if she couldn't comprehend the sentence that came from his mouth. It wasn't until Blaine had nudged her with his shoulder that she snapped back to attention and gave him a stiff nod and the biggest smile she could manage without feeling like crying from the pain in her jaw. "Sure, Mr. Shue," her pulse was racing as she slipped her messenger bag across her shoulder and leaned onto her toes to give Blaine a quick kiss. "I'll see you in the car, okay?" He was staring a bit too hard at her, and she tried not to let her gaze waiver from the intensity it held.

"Yeah, okay." Just as quickly as it had come, the expression vanished and he gave her an easy smile, the kind that melted the hearts of girls all over school, before leaving with a quick goodbye to Will.

"What's up, Mr. Shue?" Rachel came to stand in front of him, not too close because she knew that he would be able to hear the pounding in her chest if she did, and she didn't like the look on his face, a sort of pitying, _understanding_ that she was not ready to face. "I can't stay long, Blaine's waiting in the car and we have a reservation..."

"Rachel, is everything okay with you?" His words caught her off guard and she gave a startled glance to his face, wishing desperately she could read his thoughts. "You've seemed kind of...well, off. Lately. And, well," he seemed embarrassed and Rachel knew without a doubt that he was going to say what she had always hoped no one would acknowledge. "I've noticed bruises."

_No one noticed anything. _

She forced out what she hoped could pass for a real laugh, but it sounded funny in her throat- it was too high, and breathy to pass for her normal tone. "Mr. Shuester, that's ridiculous. What exactly do you think is happening?" _Please, just don't say it. Please, Mr. Shue. _

"Is there trouble at home, Rach? With your dads, or maybe, you're being bullied again?" And just like that, all of the air that she hadn't realized she'd holding in, was exhaled and she laughed again, much more real. No mention of Blaine, she was safe.

"Oh god, Mr. Shue, no! I just started taking a self-defense class at the women's center in town. Blaine's always going on about how I need to know how to protect myself, but I'm just terrible at it. That's where these came from. I appreciate your concern though, I'll see you tomorrow?" She felt giddy with the knowledge that her secret was safe and through her haste to get away from the choir room, she missed again the look on his face. He didn't believe her, but she didn't care because how would he ever guess? "Thanks, Mr. Shue!"

And just like that, Rachel Berry was gone and so was the chance he had hoped she would take.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has favorited this story, took the time to review it, and are following my first fan fiction! I appreciate it so much, and I encourage you to continue to tell me how I'm doing. Constructive criticism is love!

She could feel it the moment she got into the car. The air had shifted, the tense silence that greeted her was almost palpable and Rachel felt her giddiness evaporate as if it had been forcefully sucked from her lungs. Blaine sat with his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel of the car, staring straight ahead as if he were sizing up some invisible foe and Rachel knew, just _knew_, that somehow he was certain of what Mr. Shue had wanted to say.

She didn't speak. She knew well enough that any noise that came from her lips would make him snap more quickly, more violently, and with a carefully trained precision, she slid into her seat and placed her hands on her lap. She didn't look at him, but rather, her gaze stayed focused on his fingers, the fingers that were still holding onto the wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned white and she could see every vein in his forearms bulging out like a giant warning sign that said "be careful, be careful." Rachel knew that those hands would be the tell-tale sign of how things could go for her at the moment, as to whether he would aim his anger at her or if he would just vent about the "nosy" teacher that was trying to get into their business, and so that was where her eyes stayed.

It felt like an eternity that they sat there, not moving, both of them statues in their very different mindsets, and she wanted to scream, because then at least they wouldn't just be _sitting _there. It was taking all of her willpower not to cry, all of her willpower to remain in the car, all of her willpower to not open her mouth and just when she thought she couldn't take it any longer, he spoke. His voice was low, dangerous, so different from the voice she was used to hearing that was full of laughter and light and total adoration for her.

"What the _fuck_ did he want with you?"

Moment of truth, Rachel knew this was her chance to smooth things over, to calm him, to assure him...to lie to him. "Oh, baby," her tone was light and high, soothing but as composed as she could keep it without cracking, "he wanted to talk about next week's solos. He said he noticed that I hadn't asked for anything in awhile and he wanted to go over some ideas. You know, to prepare for regionals?"

"Liar."

It crashed down, the subtle barrier between them fell like shattering glass and Rachel wanted to curl up and hide from it so badly that it almost hurt. "You're fucking lying to me, Rachel. You're fucking _lying _to me." She started to protest, she had too, she had a slim window in which this could still go okay for her and if she didn't take it, there was no telling what he would do.

"I'm not, Blaine, I swear, he just wanted to show me some-"

The sentence never finished leaving her mouth before he had turned on her, so quickly, so suddenly that she didn't even see his fist coming until it had already cracked across her jaw, throwing her body against the door, cracking her head so sharply into the window that she cried out despite her resolve to remain silent. Unwilling tears sprung to her eyes as she clutched her throbbing cheek, and they spilled over as harshly as his voice did when he began shouting.

"You think I'm stupid, Rachel? You think that I don't know what's fucking going on? I KNOW WHAT HE SAID TO YOU," she flinched into her seat and that was when she knew that her lie had been caught, that he had never gone to the car after Glee, that he waited there, listening. "You practically GAVE him all he needed to know! Fuck, Rachel, you couldn't even come up with a fucking good _lie. _You're supposed to be an actress? You're worthless! You're fucking worthless! You want everyone to know? You want to go back to your fucking life, living in the shadow of every girl in that club who is prettier and smarter and more talented then you? Because that's what you are," he reached out and his fingers locked themselves tightly around her arm, making her whimper as he forced her close to his face, close enough that she could smell his cologne, smell the mint of his gum, smell the anger rolling like waves across his body. "Nothing. Nothing without me."

She was crying openly now, pleading with him unintelligibly, not able to find full sentences because her head hurt so much and the fear was taking over every part of her. "Blaine please! Someone will see! Please, please, please!" She tried to use her other hand to touch him, to touch his face, to bring him back to her, pull him from the darkness that he was being consumed by. "Baby, baby, look at me, I didn't tell him anything, I swear, I didn't, he doesn't know! No one knows, Blaine." He caught her free wrist in his hand and pulled her around to face him, their eyes locking together, his dark, hers dilated.

And then it melted away. The anger was gone like a flash of lightning and he was doing that thing with his mouth when he knew he'd made another mistake, and Rachel felt the relief so overwhelming that it brought on a fresh wave of tears. "God, Rach, I'm sorry. I know you didn't say...you did your best, didn't you?" He was like a little boy, seeking reassurance from a parent after doing something he knew was wrong. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby, you mean everything to me. I know you'd never—I love you, I love you so much. Please tell me it's okay."

_It's not okay._

"It's okay, Blaine," he had her wrists loosely in his hands now, and he was putting them up to his face, burying his eyes behind her palms. "Baby, it's okay. I should've known better than to lie to you, I'm sorry, okay? Everything is okay."

_Everything is not okay._

As they drove from the parking lot, Rachel stared once more at the hollow girl in the tiny rearview mirror, makeup smeared and ruined, hair matted with blood, cheek swelling rapidly and all she could think was "how did I allow this to happen?" She wanted to scream again, to tell him to pull over right that second and let her out, to tell him that _he _was the worthless one, _he _didn't deserve her. Instead, she rested her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes against her image and just let herself drift away, wondering if she wished hard enough, that she could just stay asleep forever.

_Everything was not okay._


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner was a quiet affair. Breadsticks was crowded with people and Rachel couldn't help but feel that everyone's eyes lingered on her as they entered the restaraunt hand in hand. How did they know? Could they see it? Panic was creeping into her throat, but she knew better than to voice her opinions to him. _If they could see the bruises, then it was not her fault._ Even in her head, the words sounded unconvincing and contrived...iIf they noticed the bruises _of course _it was her fault. She wondered if she'd put on enough make up? She wondered if her sleeves were pulled down far enough? She wondered when he would loosen his grip on her hand because it was beginning to hurt, but she knew he could feel her tension and he was warning her to calm down.

"Reservation for two, please. Last name is Anderson."

His voice was smooth and self-assured, he smiled charmingly at the waitress who flushed at the attention and giggled unnecessarily. Rachel wanted to throw up, she hated the scene so much, but instead she just wound herself more closely to Blaine, pasted on the brightest smile she could despite the ever present ache in her jaw, and tried to talk herself into feeling hungry. The waitress chattered mindlessly to them as she lead them to a corner booth and Rachel did her best to stay tuned into the conversation, but soon found her mind wandering without meaning to. The waitress had an annoying voice, loud and high-pitched and she was reminded-with a pang of guilt after- of Kurt. "Thank you," Blaine's own voice cut into the conversation and Rachel snapped her focus back to the table as he helped her sit. She noticed the waitress staring at her a bit, and for one second she was sure she was going to say something, but then she noticed with a start that it was jealousy in her eyes, not accusation.

"Here are your menus, I'll be right back with your order."

Left alone, Rachel finally found herself relaxing and for the first time that day, she really _did _feel hungry. "What are you getting? I think I want the tofu salad, it's always so good, and they have my favorite dressing."

She was babbling, but she didn't really care. She sounded like the old her, the _old _Rachel, and god, was it glorious to be herself. She told him about her classes that day, and he listened intently, just like he had used to do, occasionally interjecting with some trite comment, but for the most part, just letting her speak. When she had ran out of things to say and the waitress, who now seemed to be ignoring them once she'd realized that Rachel was, in fact, Blaine's girlfriend and not his sister, had brought their salads and drinks, she stopped speaking and looked over to him shyly.

"Do you love me, Rachel?"

His eyes bore into hers with such intensity that it frightened her for a second before she found her voice enough to answer him. "Of course I do, Blaine! Why would you ask that?" Her voice was honest, sincere, and everything in her seemed to clench as if expecting the worst.

"I just wonder sometimes," he replied, his expression turning thoughtful. "I wonder why you stay with me, why I treat you the way I do, why you never tell anyone." Was it a test? Rachel swallowed hard, unable to tell and unwilling to give him the wrong answer and start another fight.

"Because I love you, Blaine," her eyes met his again, and she was surprised by the amount of ferocity behind her voice. "Because I know that you don't mean it, not really, because I know that you love me too, Blaine. Because I don't know who I am without you." And that was true, that much she knew was, and it almost broke her heart to admit it to him. Rachel Berry, the once proud, obnoxious, unflappable star of the Glee club who never took shit from anyone, who unfailingly knew who she was without any shred of doubt, no longer held that spark she had once had. Where had it gone? When had it been extingushed? She didn't know. She hadn't ever really thought of it.

"I love you too, Rach. I just...needed to hear it again, I guess."

And he smiled at her again, the smile that made her forget that it was him who had torn her apart time after time, that it was his fists that had made those marks on her body, and that it was that smile she knew she would see looming above her tonight when he took her body, willing or not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! I know the last two chapters have been sort of short fillers, but I promise that it's about to get good. This is the beginning of the end for the couple, and I continue to appreciate your feedback! **

Glee club was a subdued affair that afternoon. William Shuester had asked the kids to come a little early, but to maybe forget to mention it to Rachel, and although they were a little confused, no one questioned him. So there they sat, solemn faces waiting for some sort of announcement that some were sure they knew what was about, and others remained oblivious.

"Does anyone know where Blaine is?" The normally upbeat teacher addressed the room with a sort of sad, weariness that the kids hadn't witnessed before.

"Yeah, Mr. Shue, he was with Rachel when I was telling everyone to meet up, so I didn't get the chance to tell him to come early. I think he probably would've tipped her off, anyway." Finn spoke up from the front row of chairs, his arms crossed over his chest protectively, his brow furrowed.

"Is this about Regionals, Mr. Shue?" Quinn spoke up next. "Is she not getting a solo or something? Why all the secrets?" Quinn had always been the most blunt of the group, but even she could see that this was something different.

"Yeah, I mean, secrets don't make friends. Except that one time when my toast told me we could be secret friends because no one could know about us," Brittany piped up from her seat next to Santana, who seemed to be trying desperately to pretend she couldn't hear her girlfriend. "Oh, oops, I just told you, didn't I? He's gonna be so mad."

No one acknowledged her comment and Will took a deep breath, lifting his head to stare in turn at each of his students. "Have any of you noticed something sort of...off, about Rachel lately?" The sentence fell, short and hard, and he waited for their reactions. "I've noticed some things that aren't quite right with her. Bruises. She's quiet. She's glued to Blaine's side. I thought maybe it was just her getting older, getting more mature, but...these aren't normal things, guys. I think maybe someone is hurting her."

For the most part, no one seemed surprised by his words. Finn fidgeted nervously in his seat, while Quinn stared away at the opposite wall. Sam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and Tina held more tightly onto Mike's hand. Santana didn't seem to really care either way, her expression remained unchanged, but even she had reached over to take Brittany's fingers and lace them through her own, protectively. It was Kurt who spoke first, and his voice seemed distant and off, too low from his usual falsetto, tinged with a tiredness that Will had recognized in himself.

"Yeah, Mr. Shuester." He seemed to be struggling with himself, on whether or not to say anything, on whether it was his place. "I was at her house awhile ago, we were doing makeovers and I brought her this really gorgeous Marc Jacobs nightie, and she seemed so excited that I think she must've forgot that..." his voice faltered and cracked a little, and at the sound of it, Finn's head rose sharply to stare at his step-brother with unflinching eyes, "when she took off her shirt, there were marks. They looked like fingerprints, maybe something else, I wasn't really sure, but they were everywhere, on her arms, on her stomach...I asked her what had happened, I was so mad, I don't think I really actually let her talk," he gave a short, embarrassed laugh, shaking his head. "She told me they came from some class...Some dance thing, and I just...I didn't question it."

Silence enveloped them again before Puck raised his hand and Mr. Shue seemed to remember that they were not alone. "Do you think her dad's are hitting her?" The club turned around, almost as if they were one whole unit, united by something that they weren't quite sure was real.

Will took a breath and let it out in a puff, looking grim. "I asked her, Noah. She denied it. She said she got hurt in a self-defense class. I know that...I know that this might be...well, I don't want to put anything into your guys' heads, but do any of you know how Blaine and Rachel are doing?"

All at once, the room seemed to buzz with activity and William strained to keep up with the tenseness that now surrounded the children. Everyone was talking at each other, but no one seemed to know exactly what they were accusing.

"No way!" It was Santana's voice that was the loudest and everyone seemed to calm down when she spoke up, turning to listen to her. "Blaine is the best thing that ever happened to that girl. She got goddamned lucky when he asked her out. And besides, we all know Blaine! Do you really think he went Lima Heights on her ass? He's not that guy."

Silence again. A different kind. They were staring, all of them, at a place behind Will and he turned to find Rachel and Blaine there, clutching hands, Rachel's face pale as a sheet, Blaine's hard as ice.

"I'm not what guy?"

Like a bomb had dropped, no one seemed to breathe while they waited for the explosion to hit.

"We're worried about you, Rachel." Mr. Shuester's eyes were wide and kind and he extended an arm to her, as if offering peace for some offense that she couldn't wrap her head around.

"You guys think Blaine is hurting me?"

"No one said that, Rach, no one is accusing anyone of anything, we just want the truth. We're your friends," Quinn was the unlikeliest source to say anything to the petite brunette, but there she was, staring straight at her as if daring her to argue.

"I don't know what you guys think is going on, but I'm fine." She seemed to hold onto Blaine more tightly, like a crutch and Will's gaze softened. "I'm going through some things right now, and I don't need you guys worrying about me. There is nothing wrong. Nothing. Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you is going on, is probably wrong. Just leave it alone, please?" Her tears were unexpected, hot and salty they ran down her cheeks like a tidal wave and without another word, she turned and fled.

Blaine turned his betrayed gaze to the club, shaking his head with a practiced sadness, his heart beating so hard and fast in his chest that he was worried it was about to explode through it. "Rachel doesn't need this, you guys. I hope you can be more sensitive in the future. And by the way, if any of you want to ask me to my face if I'm hurting my girlfriend, I'll be more than happy to set you straight." And just like that, Glee Club was over as quickly as Rachel and Blaine had made it out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**HEY GUYS! So sorry for such a long delay in between chapters, I got very busy with life and didn't have time to be on the computer for more then a few minutes at a time. To make up for it, here's a longer chapter. Thank you again for all of the reviewers and all of the favorites and follows I've gotten! It really means a lot to me. This is for you guys!**

The only thought running through her head was how much she hated each and every one of those goddamned, meddling Glee clubbers. They were supposed to be her friends! Didn't they realize that what they were doing was dangerous? Didn't they see that the only one being hurt from their "worry" was her? The car ride had been deafening, but not for lack of silence, no, Blaine had screamed at her the entire fifteen minute drive back to her place, but she had managed to tune him out. Her head rested against the window of the car as the trees whizzed past their heads, and she pressed her cheek against the cool pane of glass, staring up into the clear skies with a longing she had never felt before. How must it feel to be a bird up in those skies? Without a care in the world, without a thought for anyone but themselves, without people to hurt them or hold them back, nowhere to be and yet everywhere to go... Rachel moved her fingertips lightly across the pane that lay between her and freedom, letting them dance there gently, lost in her thoughts as if they were only sound in the world, and in her head, they were. Of course, Blaine was not an idiot, he saw that she wasn't paying attention and he swerved the car dangerously, a warning to her before his hand was across the armrest to grip her hair tightly, her long brown locks fisted against his fingers so painfully that she couldn't help but wince.

"You have no idea what you've done, Rachel Barbara Berry. But you're about to feel every bit as embarrassed and foolish as you made me out to all of them. Do you understand me? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" She flinched, feeling the tears begininning to gather at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to nod, not trusting herself to find her voice and give him the answer he wanted verbally. "Good." Blaine's grip loosened and he went back to staring at the road as her driveway materialized in front of them. The dread that pulled at her heart was so intense and so sudden that she felt bile rise to her throat at the sight of a home that had once been such a safe, comforting place to her. She numbly swallowed it down, stepping out of the car without really feeling herself doing it, doing her best to pull herself together and find a way to turn off her emotions, turn off the pain that she knew she was about to experience, turn off the voices in her head screaming at her that all she had to do was run. All she had to do was tell him no. _Would he really let you do that? _voice taunted her, sneering and negative, but completely and totally right. It didn't matter what she wanted anymore, if he was going to do something, there was nothing that she could do to stop it.

Rachel hadn't felt him come up behind her, but she had heard the sound of his door slam and felt the brutal grasp of his fingers around her upper arm, propelling her forward roughly as he began to hiss again, the anger rolling off of his body in waves. Nothing good would come of this. Nothing. Rachel knew that she should have felt afraid, it had been quite awhile since Blaine had been this angry and the last time, he had fractured her wrist in what they both decided was a "ballet accident." "You're stupid, Rachel, if you think that you can get away with defying me like this, if you think that you can talk back and let your stupid friends fucking know everything! What the fuck were you thinking, you worthless slut? That's all you're good for, anyway, isn't it? This ass is the only thing that keeps anyone around," his words were accompanied by a sharp slap to her clothed ass, where his hand lingered, groping crudely. She was shocked by the action, but only because it was the right thing to be when someone degraded you that way, not because it came as an actual surprise to her. Still, she stayed silent. In this scenario, it was better to let him blow his steam, tire himself out, and apologize later. Maybe it would be easier that way, maybe it would be faster.

The journey to her room seemed like a hazy dream, she hadn't even realized they were there until he had shut the door behind them and threw her roughly towards the bed. He didn't give her anytime to compose herself, no time to prepare or steady the beat of her heart, just one swift movement and he had her pinned down beneath him, his hands tangled in the soft material of her skirt, pulling and pulling and pulling until it gave at his treatment and fell to the ground in a heap. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry as he continued his assault, flipping her onto her stomach so her lower body was dangling off the edge of the bed, not giving a second thought as he ripped her cotton panties away from her body. She gripped the edge of the bed, wrapping the sheets tightly around her fists and buried her face into the comforter so she could cry freely without him hearing. Not that he was being anymore quiet. She was ready to feel him enter her from behind, dry and hard and brutal, everything that defined who he was, but all she heard was the jingle of his expensive leather belt being unbuckled and the swoosh of air as it was pulled through the loops of his pants. She prayed for a fast fuck, prayed that it would be over soon and she could go back to her life and trying desperately to pretend everything was okay, but nothing happened. Her shoulders tensed, and she waited again, crossing her legs at the ankle, not brave enough to look over at him.

Then she heard it.

"You embarrassed me today, Rachel. You act like a selfish, spoiled little brat all the goddamn time and no wonder people are talking. I'm going to teach you a lesson, and you are going to fucking _thank_me when it's finished, do you hear me?" He wrenched her head back painfully, allowing her to see the doubled over belt in his hand, looking menacing and hard and suddenly so, so _scary. _

"Blaine please! Please don't do this, please?" Her face was scarlet, and she was crying already, without even realizing it. He was going to hit her with that? He was going to...to spank her? She swallowed in a gasp of air as he let her go, giving one short, cruel laugh. "You act like a child, Rachel, you get treated like one. This is what happens to little girls who just can't fucking listen."

And just like that, the belt crashed down, landing with a CRACK so sharp against her ass that she almost didn't register it until the brand of fire had lit into her and she howled, burying her head in the sheets again, squirming desperately to try to escape him. But he wouldn't let her, he kept one hand pressed firmly against her lower back, pinning her, suffocating her, as the assault with his belt continued. One, two, three...seven...eleven...How many had it been? How many fires could he light in her before she burned out? Her ass was on fire, her hair was a mess and her face was covered in a mixture of her tears and spit and snot from crying so hard. It had been almost thirty, almost, she felt herself growing limp, she felt him tiring out, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Not so fucking tough now—SMACK- are you, Rach?" He was breathless, and her body jerked against his hand, but she didn't respond and when he threw the belt aside and she heard it clatter against her dresser, she almost started a whole new wave of tears out of the sheer relief that it was ending. "This? This is mine, Rachel Berry. This is mine and you are never going to forget that, do you get me?" He sat beside her torso, his hand resting on her blazing flesh, squeezing it tightly. He withdrew it and then sharply brought it back down in a resounding SLAP that echoed through her room and caused her to sob and he chuckled darkly, pulling her over to him so that he could see her face. "Maybe I've finally found a way to keep both of us out of trouble, have I?"

And without another word, he had flipped her back over and was yanking down his pants and his boxers so the second phase of her punishment could begin. Rachel closed her eyes once more and wished harder then she ever had in her life that she could fall asleep and never wake up again.


	7. Update

Hey you guys!

I cannot express how awed I am by the reviews and responses I've received for this story! I have not forgotten about you, I no longer have access to a computer and have unfortunately not been able to update. I will do my best to remedy this soon! Again, thank you for your patience :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Here's a quick chapter for y'all. Not the best, but a good insertion chapter. Happy to say I've got a new laptop! Look for another update soon :)**

Reprieve.

Her dads had come home for the week and Blaine had been forced to go back to his own parent's house, saving Rachel from a week of torture. She hadn't felt so free in a long time, and it was only slightly ironic that this freedom was felt in her house. She had told Blaine the truth, that her father's had wanted to spend time with her, that they had a week of family dinners, local theater shows, and day trips to the city planned, which would leave her little time to spend with him. He'd been, understandably, furious. But what could he do? Short of telling her parents that he couldn't be without his girlfriend for a week would make him sound needy and controlling and everything that he did his best to appear not to be in public.

Rachel wasn't sure if she was more excited to be able to spend time alone in her room, doing whatever she wanted on her own schedule, or more excited that she had an entire week to let her body heal. Luckily for him, the bruises were fading quickly beneath a layer of fake tanner and the ever present makeup, and her dad's weren't in the habit of watching her shower or change, so she didn't have to worry about them seeing the rest of her.

She felt so alive! Her ass was still tender, but had been the quickest to heal, the bruises on her arms and legs were fading fast, and her face was almost completely back to normal. Neither dad had said anything to her about it and she had happily spent the week telling them stories about Glee Club and school, and Blaine, and life, and hopes, and anything she could think of to tell them that would make them think she was the same normal, healthy, happy girl they had left her.

It was the happiest that Rachel could remember being in a long time. It was the happiest that Mr. Shue had seen her in a long time. It was the happiest that anyone had seen her in a long time.

Of course, how long that lasted? Was just until the end of the week, when they had to fly out yet again for a big case Hiram was defending in New York and LeRoy had once again decided to go with so he could do some work on a TV pilot he was hoping to publish. Rachel did her best to pretend she wasn't devastated by the news. Of course, Blaine had been thrilled, the second she'd called him to let him know that she would be free after she dropped her dad's at the airport, he'd been on his way over, bags in hand, handsome smile in place, light in his eyes.

Rachel knew better than to get her hopes up for a nice relaxing week.

"God, it feels like it's been forever," he sighed, tossing his things on her neatly tucked in comforter and turning to open his arms. "I mean, school and shit has been great, but it feels like I haven't gotten to _see_ you in a long time."

Rachel went to him willingly, enveloping herself in the scent of his cologne and the tight muscles of his arms. "I know, I was going crazy!" She laughed slightly, the thinly veiled lie rolling off her tongue as though it were a line in a play. "What should we do? Do you want me to make dinner? Rent a movie?" Her voice was hopeful, her smile earnest and she glanced up to his face expectantly, finding his warm smile shining back at her.

"That all sounds great, Rach, but first things first, I want this," he grabbed her playfully around the waist and mock-shoved her towards the bed, where Rachel fell with a laugh. He was being awfully charming, kind enough, the man she had fallen in love with radiating all throughout him. "Do you know what happened this morning?" He fell on the bed next to her, casually slinging an arm around her waist, the other tucked under his impeccably shaved chin. "Puckerman asked me what had happened to you. He said that you'd been acting like you just landed a role on, and I quote, "broadwayland." I found that interesting, that people were commenting on your behavior." His gaze turned thoughtful and Rachel's pulse began to pick up, though she did her best to keep her smile in place.

"Well, yeah, Blaine, I mean I haven't seen my dads in a long time, you know?" She gave him a playful nudge with her hand. "I was happy to have them home for a bit."

"Were you?" The tone became a note sharper, probably would've gone unnoticed by anyone but her. "Seemed more to me that you were happy to have me gone. Is that it?"

Bam. Like a sack of bricks it hit her squarely in the face and she knew the fight was already over before she had even gotten a chance to get in the ring. "N-no, Blaine, come on, you know that's not true!"

Why she tried? She didn't know anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! Thanks for being so patient with me through this process. Your feedback has been so excellent, and so encouraging! Thank you to my readers and thank you for continually supporting this story. Hope you enjoy as it begins to come to a head :) (ps, it took me a long time and a lot of thought as to who I wanted to make the "savior" of this story, hopefully I don't disappoint too many of you!)**

He'd been watching her. Watching her for awhile, actually, and all that watching had only lead to one conclusion for him. Someone, or something, was hurting her. Hurting her badly. Maybe everyone else had accepted her little story about the falls and the self defense classes and the ballet accidents and the continuous stream of bullshit that was constantly flowing from her mouth, but he didn't. He knew the look in her eyes, the sad, desperate, scared look that he had seen before in his own mother's eyes as her boyfriends had shouted at her time after time after time, and he saw the way that she flinched back instinctively whenever anyone came too close.

Anyone but Blaine, that was.

He couldn't put his finger on it- or him rather- but if his hunch was correct, he knew exactly what was going on. And what was going on was that Blaine Anderson, perfect, put together, gentle, kind, Blaine Anderson, was abusing Rachel. That son of a fucking _bitch _was hurting her.

The only problem was how to get her to admit it, because if he knew anything from watching his mother, from seeing so many of those stupid Lifetime movies that she forced him to sit through, it would not be easy. In fact, it would be downright hard. Anything too obvious would set her off and he'd lose his chance forever, and obviously going to Mr. Shue wasn't the answer since he'd pretty much made sure that no one in Glee Club would ever be able to get near that one with a ten foot pole, calling her out publicly the way he had. But could he do it? On his own, maybe, just him and no one else, just him and her and no one from Glee and no teachers, and most of all no _Blaine_.

"Hey, Rach, can I talk to you?"

He'd found the opportunity, a perfect little moment of solace in the library during second period, when he knew that Blaine would be in math class (because that was where he was supposed to be, but he'd timed this out as perfectly as he could and he wasn't giving it up for some stupid word problems about trains or whatever the fuck they talked about in math) and Rachel had a free period that she tended to use to do extra studying. He found her in a corner of the quiet, little room, and blessedly, no one else was there with her. He did his best not to sneak up on her- the last thing he needed was for her to be scared of _him _too, but she saw him coming before he'd even reached the table and seemed ready for his presence.

"Sure, I just finished this chapter," she smiled at him and he caught a glimpse of her cracked lip, which she had probably thought she'd done an excellent job of covering up, but he saw it. He knew what he was looking for now. "What's up, Finn?"

He took his seat across from her and took his time planning out his opening sentence (despite that he'd been practicing it for the last week almost everytime he even caught a glimpse of her), and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. It was now or never, now or nothing, and all he could do was hope for the best, hope that she wouldn't run screaming away from him, or hit him, worse, just stare at him and not say a thing at all. "Rach, you know how much I care about you, right?" His eyes found hers, and he saw her shoulders tighten. It had begun. "I care about you a lot, I always have, ever since that first day of Glee when you wore that stupid sweater with the reindeer on it and you were jumping around like a crack addict and you made me smile, and I just knew..." He trailed off, not sure what he'd meant to say with that, but it was too late now and he had to go on. "You had such a spark, Rach. It was infectious. I wanted to ask you how you got it, how could _I _get it? And then I fucked up and I never did, I never asked you and you met Blaine, and life went on."

He didn't let his gaze waver and he held out his hand, open and kind, not forcing her to take it, but offering it if she needed, and when he felt her fingers close in his, he knew that he could do this, that he could say his peace, and that she would hear him and it was up to her after that. "I know what's going on Rachel. Maybe I never told you this, but after my dad died and my mom started dating again for the first time, she...she found some men who were not so great. Who treated her like shit and walked all over her, who-" he paused, watching her closely for her reaction, "who hit her."

And the flinch was there, it was real, and it was unmistakable. The tears that followed were just as real and when she came into his arms, babbling incoherently about how she didn't know how it had gotten out of hand, how she didn't see how he could keep doing it, how she loved him and she loved him, and she...she loved him, all Finn could do was hold her and whisper that he knew and that it would be okay. He wouldn't tell, but he would help. He wouldn't do anything, but he would help. He wouldn't confront Blaine, but he would...he would kill him. He would fuck him up beyond reason the same way he'd fucked Rachel up. She didn't want to leave Blaine and that killed him, but what could he do?

He was going to figure it out.


	10. Chapter 10

**This is the fastest update I think I've ever done! Thank you guys again for the wonderful feedback, I know people probably didn't want to see Finn as the "savior" but remember...nothing is ever set in stone ;] This story is dark! It could never get happy, so I suppose you'll just need to read on.**

Rachel was losing track of her days-or was it her mind?- lately. She couldn't remember things that had once been ingrained in her, she'd forgotten her father's anniversary, then she'd forgotten an important history test the same week, followed by where she had left her phone, where she had put her house key, and finally...she had forgotten Blaine's birthday. A cardinal sin. An "how the _fuck _did you manage that, Rachel?" It had been set in her phone, a thankful reminder, but it had been too late to be a saving grace because long after school had let out and the Glee club had gathered in the cornily decorated choir room with some sad looking cupcakes that had traces of cat hair sticking from the frosting (thanks Brittany), all Rachel could feel was the cold, numb drip of fear slowing falling down her spine and into her very soul. His birthday. His fucking birthday. How had she forgotten _that_? How had he not said anything to her, _anything_ to have helped her, to tipped her off, to at least have warned her? She wanted burst into tears right then and there, but everyone was watching them. Watching him laughing, watching him embrace the others and thank them profusely, watching him catch her eye and give her a sweet smile that only looked sweet because unless she could magically throw together a spectacular birthday dinner in the next two minutes, she was fucked.

She was fucked.

Rachel stood there with a smile plastered on her face, joining in loudly with everyone else singing 'Happy Birthday' and trying not to run to the nearest trash can and throw up. He was going to be so upset...Except Blaine didn't get upset. He got mad. There was no inbetween for him, there was only happy and inexplicable anger. Rachel mechanically went through the motions of Glee, all the while trying so hard to figure out how she had skated past the fact that it was February 19th and that was his _birthday._ And through the fear that she was feeling and the pain that was growing worse and worse in her gut, she felt something else. Rage. How dare he! How _dare _he set her up like this! He wanted her to fail, that was what he'd done, he wanted to see her struggle and then face the inevitable to follow. He had done this on purpose and as that realization hit her, she wanted to hit him. She wanted to **hit** _him. _

"Why?!"

It exploded afterwards, in the car when everyone else had gone from the parking lot and it was just them. She didn't filter herself, for the first time since her encounter with Finn she said everything that she was feeling and didn't hold back on him. "You fucking wanted me to look like a fool! You couldn't say anything? You couldn't remind me? Jesus Christ, Blaine, I've been doing everything I can to just remember my own name lately and you had do humiliate me publicly like that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

**CRACK!**

She didn't see his fist until it had flown at her face and snapped squarely across her eye, a sickening thud that never failed to make her feel immediately sick to her stomach. And then he laughed, the sound so chilling against the backdrop that he had just painted and she couldn't breathe as he did it, couldn't fathom how she'd just done what she had, how he'd done what he had. He shook out his hand, flexing his fingers methodically, staring at her while he laughed and she choked down bile. "Really? You forgot my birthday, Rachel, and sadly, I knew you would. How much brain can you fit into one stupid slut, really?" He leaned closer to her, grasping her chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing her to look at him, into the coldness that had taken over his once warm gaze. "Maybe I did want you too. Maybe I was hoping for an excuse to punish you...Found one, didn't I?"

The lazy grin returned to his face and he shoved her face away to start the car, leaving her to rest her stinging face against the cool glass of the window. She didn't see the trees blur by, didn't feel the car slow as he pulled into the driveway, didn't hear him open her door, didn't feel him drag her out, didn't taste the blood pooling in her mouth from where she'd chewed a hole in her cheek. It was as though she was in a dream, a wonderfully, blissfully, unreal dream where she didn't feel anything and never wanted to wake up. The house spun past her and she landed in her room like she had just crashed back to earth, coming to with a start. Rachel turned to face Blaine and watched him as he removed his cardigan and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp button-up. "You know, usually it's the birthday person who get's the spanking, isn't it? Time to start a new tradition, I'd say." He sat on the edge of her bed, his legs slightly spread, his eyes boring into hers expectantly. "Only fitting. Considering how you weren't the only one humiliated back there. In fact, I'd say you weren't really humiliated much at all. Let's change that. Take off your skirt and come here."

Dazed, but resigned, Rachel took a deep breath and did as she was told, removing the offending garment and tossing it gingerly aside before moving to his side and carefully, quietly, bending forward to lay across his lap. She turned her head to the side, one had on the floor to keep her steady, the other holding onto his leg, and trained her eyes on the clock. 5:17. It would be a long night. She took another deep breath and braced herself as he peeled down her panties and raised his hand.

_This is my life._


End file.
